Bound Angel by Felicity Heaton

Author:Felicity Heaton [Heaton, Felicity]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-02-01T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

It was freezing.

Isadora huddled deeper into the blanket wrapped around her, savouring the warmth as she tucked her legs up to get her icy feet under it. Her knees knocked against something solid. Was she facing a wall?

She pulled a face and rolled over, because she had stared at walls enough to last a lifetime since the witches had taken her captive.

A hazy memory formed, a notion that she was no longer held in a cell, was no longer a prisoner.

A heavy arm draped over her waist.

Her eyes widened as she looked down at the large hand that pressed against her stomach and pulled her back, drawing her against the solid form she had mistaken for a wall.

They widened even further when she realised that the soft blanket that warmed her wasn’t a blanket at all.

It was a wing.

An image of the black-haired warrior popped into her head, together with a disjointed replay of what had happened

He had rescued her.

He murmured something in his sleep, sighed and dragged her closer still, so the hard planes of his body pressed into her back.

Heat flashed through her.

Panic followed it.

Isadora burst from his embrace, shooting to her feet to stand on the other side of the room to him where he remained on the dirty wooden floorboards.

Mother Earth, he was handsome.

Even more so than she recalled.

He smacked his firm lips together, a furrow forming above the straight line of his nose as his eyebrows knitted. That frown deepened as he moaned and fumbled, hand searching the dusty floorboards beside him.

For her?

She swallowed hard and fought to contain the heat that wanted to burn her cheeks over the fact she had been sleeping tucked against him, held close in his strong arms, shielded by his crimson wings.

It had been for the shared body heat.

That was the only reason she had been snuggled up against a male who was practically a stranger to her.

His searching hand reached the point where her head had been and roamed away from him. When he didn’t find her, his eyes popped open, sharp and focused as they fixed on his hand and then scoured the room.

They stopped on her boots and skimmed up her legs.

She told herself to move, to do something to evade his gaze that was bringing fire up from her toes, flames that would scald her cheeks and reveal the fact he affected her.

It wasn’t right to let him fluster her, to enjoy the feel of his eyes on her, and the hungry way they darkened, their tranquil turquoise depths turning stormy as they lingered on her body.

No. It was right.

She just wasn’t sure why.

More than once, he had said that she knew him. She didn’t remember him though, and she was sure she would recall such a noble, handsome male if she had met him before.

His deep voice rang in her mind.

She had done a spell to forget him.

Why would she want to do that?

Why had he seemed pained by the fact she couldn’t

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